


Blue Night

by TheShantorian



Series: The Daylight Cycle [1]
Category: SHINee
Genre: AU, Gen, Graphic, Horror, M/M, Murder, Mystery, horror movie au, inspired by a twitter thread, killer, kpop, lots of dead, non idols, there's a sex scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 00:32:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11093178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShantorian/pseuds/TheShantorian
Summary: Lee Jinki was expecting a quiet weekend of relaxation when he invited his four closest friends on a trip to his family's lakeside cabin. However, things take an unexpected turn when the five are hunted down by a masked attacker, forcing the friends to fight for their lives.----Inspired by a thread by @vocalisthyun on twitter. The thread has massive spoilers for the rest of the fic though, so read at your own risk.





	1. Sleepless Night

Chapter 1: Sleepless Night

It was noon when the group of five friends arrived at Jinki’s cabin. The sun was high in the sky, the air thick with the August humidity. Cicadas hummed and geese honked as they flew overhead. The sticky breeze smelled of wet earth and grass. It was fresh and clean and free of the suffocating city that they’d abandoned for the weekend.

Jinki slammed the trunk of his car shut, shoving the last cooler of food out of the way with his foot. “That’s the last of it, guys. Someone want to take this in while I move the car?”

“I got it,” Minho declared as he jogged over to Jinki. He lifted the cooler with ease, holding it under one arm like it wasn't half his size.

While Jinki went to drive the car to the actual parking area not too far off from the cabin, Minho carried the cooler into the cabin, heading for the kitchen. Taemin followed close behind him.

Lounging in a chair on the porch was Kibum. Though he didn’t really want to be out in the wilderness near bugs and dirt and unreliable plumbing, he was still happy to be with his friends, even though the heat and overbearing quietude was starting to irritate him. He missed the city, but he knew this was what he needed. Kibum’s attention was fixed on his phone as he rapidly tapped the screen, alerting his many groups of friends that he’d be mostly out of reach for the weekend.  He liked being in contact with everyone, but he agreed with Jinki in that it was important to take a break from it all sometimes and just relax. He needed to just step back and take in the world through his own eyes instead of through the lense of his Instagram camera.

Jonghyun, however, was doing the opposite. 

He was wandering through the area immediately around the cabin, a video camera on and recording the world around him. He’d occasionally murmur comments close to the external mic he’d attached to the camera, but otherwise he was focused on capturing everything the cabin had to offer. The dead leaves littering the gravel around the porch area, the noonday sunlight sifting through the treetops; he documented it all, not wanting to miss a single moment.

Looking around through the display screen of his camera, Jonghyun eventually noticed a pair of feet clad in tan coloured flip-flops. He slowly directed the camera upwards, trailing it up the short-clad, fair legs of Kibum, settling on his unimpressed expression.

“What?” Kibum droned, his eyes flipping between the screen of his phone and his reflection in Jonghyun’s camera lens. He crossed one of his legs over the other, rolling his eyes as he stopped paying Jonghyun any attention altogether.

“What~,” Jonghyun repeated back, crouching down beside Kibum. He propped the camera up on the armrest of the chair, next to Kibum’s elbow. Through the camera, he began to slowly zoom in on Kibum’s face, internally marvelling at how the sun lit up his high cheeks in a warm glow.

Kibum exhaled through his nose, shifting himself so he was as far as possible from the single most irritating cameraman on the planet without getting out of the chair. “Can you not?”

Jonghyun dropped out of his crouch, sitting cross legged on the wooden porch. “Not what?”

“Be near me.” Kibum elbowed the camera, shoving it off of the armrest.

Jonghyun yelped as he scrambled to regain a grip on it, catching the camera just before it hit the porch’s planks.  

“Alright, alright, fine, I’m gone,” Jonghyun resigned, getting off the ground. “You could’ve broken it though, asshole.” He shut off the camera, dusting off the back of his jeans before walking into the cabin, leaving Kibum by himself on the porch.

“Good,” Kibum muttered, knowing Jonghyun wouldn’t hear it. He didn’t care. He’d still gotten the last word in.

\---

The cabin was large, larger than Jonghyun had expected it to be. Through the front door was a common area, with a large set of windows on the right, next to a series of bookshelves, all filled with Jinki’s personal collections. On the left was an ornate wood burning fireplace with a flat screen mounted on the wall above it. A sofa set was laid out in front of it, a tribal patterned rug on the floor between them. Just beyond that was a staircase leading to the upstairs rooms, and slightly further down was the kitchen area.

Jonghyun paced the cabin, his camera capturing it all. He’d never been on a retreat like this before. It was all new to him, and he wanted to remember it in as much detail as possible.

Kibum came trudging in through the door while Jonghyun was getting shots of the kitchen. He headed past the stairs, to a hallway between the staircase and the dining area, leading to another set of rooms. Jonghyun, pretending not to notice, listened as Kibum’s footsteps retreated into one of the rooms, the sound of the door clicking closed following shortly after. 

Jonghyun, the camera still on, treaded towards the hallway, his sock covered feet quietly carrying him to his own room, beside Kibum’s.

As Jonghyun carefully shut the door to his room, Minho and Taemin came bounding down the stairs, their feet thundering down the wooden steps. Their laughter echoed through the wooden walls as they sped out the door, their fingers intertwined as Minho tugged Taemin along behind him. They were so caught up in going wherever they were headed that they didn’t even bother shutting the front door as they left.

\---

Jonghyun had spent some time exploring his room while the others had been unpacking and helping Jinki set up the cabin’s wifi. In his exploration, he’d discovered a small space between the boards separating his room and Kibum’s. 

Now, Jonghyun sat on a chair he’d pulled up to the space, his eyes level with the opening. Through it, he could see Kibum, his back to Jonghyun. He had no idea that Jonghyun had his eye on him.

Jonghyun lined his camera up with the opening just as Kibum pulled his shirt over his head in one motion, tossing it onto the bed. 

Jonghyun watched as Kibum turned towards him, his toned, bare chest now in Jonghyun’s line of sight. He stepped out of view for a moment, pulling on a new, thinner t-shirt. 

Jonghyun ran his tongue across his lower lip, wondering what other action he’d be documenting later on.

\---

The forest was brimming with activity, even though the evening was approaching. Birds called out to one another, the sound of their wings flapping stirring loose leaves from the treetops. The earthy floor was soft with moss and decaying foliage, the scent of the greenery strong in the air. Sunlight weaved through the boughs, illuminating small patches of mulch in a golden glow.

In one of these sun spots, beneath the branches of a wide trunked oak, was Minho and Taemin.

Minho lay on top of Taemin, who had bits of leaf and tree and stone tangled in his hair. Their lips were engaged in an intense make-out session that had started the second they crossed the threshold of the forest. They’d stumbled along, kiss uninterrupted, until Minho had pinned Taemin to the side of the oak tree they were now on the ground in front of. 

Minho’s right hand caressed Taemin’s cheek, his left up and under Taemin’s shirt, rubbing small circles with his thumb against Taemin’s stomach.

The sound of Minho’s phone blaring its obnoxiously loud ringtone put a stop to the pair’s activities for the first time in over forty minutes.

Minho groaned against Taemin’s lips, his annoyance turning into a chuckle as Taemin pressed a quick kiss to his lips. Minho rolled off of him, onto his back, pulling his phone out of his pocket. The caller ID read Lee Jinki.

“Shitty timing, man,” Minho said, picking up the call.

“I…” Jinki paused, “I don’t even want to know.” Minho could hear the smile in Jinki’s voice. “Anyway, I’m making dinner. Thought I should let you guys know.”

Minho’s face lit up. “What are we having?”

“Burgers and the beer you brought,” Jinki answered, his voice sounding farther away from the phone. He was probably quite overwhelmed with the work of prepping and making dinner. Minho knew Kibum and Jonghyun weren’t likely to help Jinki out. Minho felt a twinge of guilt in his gut for leaving Jinki to do all of the work by himself.

Thinking about that, Minho forgot to answer, so Jinki spoke up again. “It’ll be getting dark soon, too. You guys should come back.”

Minho cleared his throat. “Yeah, alright, we’re coming right now.”

Minho ended the call, pocketing his phone as he got to his feet, using the tree trunk for support.

“Come on, babe.” Minho offered his hand to Taemin, pulling his boyfriend to his feet.

Just like they’d entered the forest, they left it hand in hand.

\---

The rest of the day went by as quietly as the lakeside where Jinki was relaxing. He sat on the edge of the dock, his feet dipped in the lukewarm lakewater, staring into the distance. Ducks splashed along the farther shoreline, clouds that looked like massive feathers disappearing behind the tops of the pine trees. The sun sunk lower and lower in the horizon, setting the lakewater aflame with its vibrant orange and red hues.

It was later into the evening, and Jink felt like the water that engulfed his ankles. He was calm and relaxed, full from the burgers he’d grilled for the group about half an hour before. Minho’s beer had livened things up, especially for Jonghyun who began to freestyle lines of a poem he’d written in the car on the way to the cabin.

Jinki knew his friends were a handful, but he was tired of coming out to the cabin alone. He loved being around the four people who were now spending time by the fireplace in the cabin, but he needed some time to himself as well. A big part of why he kept on coming to the cabin was the solidarity, though he thought his friends could benefit from the change of scenery as well.

Jinki checked his watch, swirling his feet in the water. The hands of the watch face told him it was just after 8 PM.

Sighing, Jinki realized he’d better get inside before the mosquitos came out. He didn’t want to keep his friends waiting by themselves for too long anyway. He had a feeling that Minho might decide to play catch with one of his vases while he was outside, and didn’t want to risk coming back to cabin looking like a tornado had gone through it.

Jinki pulled his legs out of the water, the evening breeze chilly against his wet skin. Slipping on his flip flops, he hurried into the warmth of the cabin, and the comfort of his friends’ company.

\---

The fire was welcoming against the evening chill that seeped in through the walls of the cabin. The five friends that were seated around it were all occupied with different things, though they all reveled in the cozy heat.

Jinki sat in an armchair, his legs drawn up under a faux fur blanket as he increased the volume of the movie they were watching. Kibum was in a recliner, his attention switching between his phone screen and the flat screen, his feet, stretched out in front of him, swished side to side restlessly. Jonghyun took over the entire sofa, laying across it with his back to the TV. He was skimming through the photos and videos he’d taken on his camera, not paying much attention to anything else, aside from Minho and Taemin. 

The couple was snuggled under a thick, knit blanket, with Taemin leaning into Minho’s chest. Minho’s arm was draped around Taemin’s shoulders, his cheek resting on the top of Taemin’s head.

Jonghyun abruptly sat up, swinging his legs off of the sofa. “I’m gonna go charge my camera,” he announced, getting to his feet. “See you guys,” he called over his shoulder as he headed down the hallway to his room.

Jinki murmured a “yeah okay” while Kibum just grunted in response. Minho and Taemin didn’t even notice he left, since in the time it took for him to leave the room, Minho had directed Taemin into a gentle kiss.

“This movie’s boring,” Minho breathed, his lips brushing against his boyfriend’s, “Let’s go.”

They were off the loveseat and up the stairs before Jinki could even call “But we’re watching what you guys picked?” quietly after them.

With just Kibum and Jinki watching the movie now, nobody noticed Jonghyun as he crept up the stairs after the couple.

\---

As soon as Minho shut the door, Taemin's back was pressed against it, with Minho pinning him there. Minho's lips never left Taemin's, his arms snaking around Taemin's torso.

\---

Through a small crack in the wood of the door, Jonghyun peered through, seeing only darkness as Taemin's back was obscuring the opening. Not looking away, he raised his camera, hitting the record button as he brought the lens to the opening.

\---

Taemin's hands travelled up from Minho's lower back, slipping under his shirt as he felt the toned muscles and slickness of sweat on his boyfriend's skin. Their tongues explored each other's mouths, their hands tangled in fabric and hair.

Taemin slid his hands upwards again, breaking his lips away from Minho's in order to remove Minho's shirt. He threw the shirt down, wrapping his arms around Minho's shoulders as they pulled each other back into another deep kiss.

Minho's hands were on Taemin's hips, tugging their bodies closer and closer.

Taemin's lips sucked against Minho's tongue, tasting the salty sweetness of his boyfriend's mouth in his own. Releasing Minho's tongue, his mouth travelled to his jaw, his breath steaming against Minho's already heated skin. Taemin left soft a trail kisses and gentle licks down Minho's neck, feeling Minho's fingers rubbing his back, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

\---

Watching through his camera, Jonghyun's breathing grew heavy. This was probably the best thing he'd come across. Ever.

\---

Taemin's shirt and jeans joined Minho's on the floor while Minho grabbed Taemin by the hips, pushing him onto the bed.

Minho lowered himself over his boyfriend, grinding his hips into Taemin's as he went in for an open mouthed kiss. Taemin let out a soft moan as their tongues met, melting into his boyfriend's touch.

The fingers of Taemin's right hand were lost in Minho's hair, the fingers of his left tightly gripping the taut skin of Minho's back. Minho breathed along Taemin's jaw, slipping a hand between their bodies as he began to slowly palm Taemin through his boxers. 

Taemin half growled half moaned at the sensation, bucking his hips into Minho's hand. Minho laughed against Taemin's collarbone, his breath hot on Taemin's chest.

\---

Jonghyun saw Taemin arch his back as Minho slipped his hand into Taemin’s boxers. Minho’s lips latched onto one of Taemin’s nipples, Taemin’s fingers gripping the back of Minho’s head tightly to his chest. He watched as Minho brought his free hand up to Taemin’s lips. Taemin automatically opened up, sucking on Minho’s index and middle fingers.

From his crouched position by the crack in the door, Jonghyun felt a muscle in his leg start to seize up. He bit down on his lip to keep himself from yelping as he lost his balance. His knee slammed into the door & he rolled onto his side, groaning in pain. Thankfully, his camera was still okay.

\---

Minho and Taemin both whipped their heads in the direction of the door at the sound of Jonghyun’s accident.

“Who’s there?” Minho hollered, climbing off of Taemin.  “Jonghyun?” He wrapped the sheets around his unclothed body as he hobbled to the door. “That better fucking not be you.”

Minho opened the door to find Jonghyun on the ground, clutching his knee with one hand while cradling his camera in the other.

Rage bubbled up within Minho, his sexual desire turning into the desire to push Jonghyun and his stupid camera down the stairs.

Upon noticing Minho, Jonghyun shakily got to his feet. “I can explain,” he started, backing toward the stairs, “The internet is shit here, man, where am I supposed to get my entertainment from?”

Minho wasn’t having it, and Jonghyun could see his imminent death written all over Minho’s face. Without hesitating any further, Jonghyun turned and sprinted down the stairs, his fear escaping from his body in the form of laughter.

Minho roared in anger as he chased after Jonghyun, his bare feet slapping against the wooden steps, struggling to keep his naked body concealed by the bed sheet.

Jonghyun sped past the now empty common area and out the front door with Minho right behind him. Minho, however, stopped in the doorway, smirking.

“What?” Jonghyun panted, standing on the gravel belows the steps to the porch. The yellow porch lights shone against his sweaty forehead, a bright contrast against the blackness of the night around him.

“Delete the footage, right now,” Minho demanded, “Or I’m locking you out.”

Jonghyun smiled, thinking Minho was bluffing.

“I’m not playing, Jjong,” Minho told him, slowly closing the door, “Delete it.”

Jonghyun coughed out a dry sounding laugh. “I guess I’m sleeping under the stars tonight.”

Minho shrugged. “Your choice.”

With that, Minho shut the door behind him, the sound of the lock sliding into place following right after.

Jonghyun giggled as he patted his pockets for his phone. He’d just call Jinki and have him open the door. No big deal.

He recalled then that his phone was on his bed, charging. Okay, no problem, he’d just go around back to the back door. Hopefully that was unlocked.

Behind him, from within the forest, the sound of a large branch snapping echoed through the trees.

Jonghyun spun around, his camera trained on the forest. His heart was thundering in his chest, the sensation sending vibrations down his arms, causing them to shake.

“Who’s there?” he called, though in his head he knew it was probably a deer.

The quiet of the night answered his question. Only the chirping crickets and lake lapping at the shore made any sound.

He began to slowly ascend the stairs, approaching the front door.

His hope for a friendly forest creature dissipated as a figure emerged from the forest.

He gulped, his breath getting caught somewhere between his lips and his throat.

A man, slender in build, clad in all black was coming towards him. The man wore a black leather jacket over an equally black turtleneck, his face obscured by first a ski mask, which hid his hair, and over that, a white, featureless mask, hiding his features.

In the relaxed grip of his right hand was a long bladed knife.

Jonghyun’s eyes widened, the camera falling from his grasp and clattering to the porch. 

“Hey!” He yelled, pounding on the door with his fists, “You guys, this isn’t funny! Open the door!”

He shook the doorknob, pulling and pushing against it, hoping it would suddenly give way.

“Help! You guys, help!” He screeched as the man in the faceless mask came closer.

\---

In the bathroom connected to his room, Jinki was brushing his teeth. The sound of his electric toothbrush combined with the music coming from his earphones drowned out all sound. He couldn’t hear Jonghyun’s cries for help.

\---

In the bedroom down the hall from Jinki lay Kibum, the sound of gunfire from the action movie he was watching on his phone filled his noise cancelling headphones. The world outside of his movie universe wasn’t real to him in that moment.

\---

In the upstairs bedroom, the headboard of the queen sized bed slammed into the wall over and over again, the bed frame creaking loudly as Minho thrusted into Taemin from behind. They couldn’t care less if the house was on fire. Nothing mattered to them except each other.

\---

Jonghyun gripped the doorknob tightly as he rammed his shoulder into the door, hoping to dislodge the lock. He continued to scream for his friends, pounding into the wooden door hopelessly.

Jonghyun’s screams went up an octave as he was violently jerked backwards from behind, a gloved hand clamping down over his lips, stifling his cries.

 


	2. Tell Me What To Do

Chapter 2: Tell Me What To Do

“Crap,” Kibum cursed as the wifi cut out for the fourth time in last five minutes. He was trying to detach himself from the internet, but it was late, and he needed his Netflix. 

As he was trying to reconnect to the network, his phone screen was taken over by an incoming call from a friend of theirs, Kim Haesol.  

He groaned in annoyance, wondering what the actual fuck could be so pressing that Haesol was calling him, especially after telling him, along with a large number of other people, that he’d be largely out of reach. He wasn’t even that close with Haesol, and yet the guy was interrupting his movie time.  

He unplugged his headphones and picked up the call, not even bothering to mask his disgruntled tone. “Hello?” 

“H- Ca-- He-- So--,” came the reply. 

“What?” Kibum threw off his covers, sitting on the edge of his bed. He pulled the phone away from his ear, seeing that he only had one bar of service. “Wait, hold on, the service is shit here.” 

Kibum hopped off his bed, striding out of his room with his phone raised in the air, searching for a stronger signal. He wandered to the front of the house, seeing his phone gain a second bar of service as he approached the door, but lost it again as he stood still. He huffed, unlocking the front door and throwing it open.

His phone hit the floor before he did, dropping to his knees as a scream tore from his lips. 

Lying face down on the porch was the bleeding body of Jonghyun. 

“No, no, no, no.” He crawled forwards on his hands and knees into the pool of blood his friend was laying in, repeating his name.    


“Jonghyun,” he croaked, “Jjong come on man, don’t do this.”

He gingerly reached out towards Jonghyun’s body, his hand shaking as if he were in an earthquake. 

He shook Jjong’s body, gently, as if his touch could cause him to crumble into nothing. He came closer, his pajama bottoms now soaked in the blood of his friend. “Jjong,” he tried again, his voice choked on tears he hadn’t realized he was shedding. “Wake up, please.” 

“Please, come on,” he repeated, pulling Jjong’s body towards him.  

Seeing that there wasn’t any response from Jjong, Kibum felt his heart sink into his stomach, something inside him breaking. 

It didn’t make any sense. It wasn’t possible. He was just fine not that long ago. How could it happen? How could his friend be dead? 

Kibum wiped his face with his reddened hands, trying to clear his eyes of his tears as he sniffled, trying to fight off a runny nose.  

He had to call 911 right now.

He looked around for his phone, finding it just to his right. He picked it up, only to see that the screen was shattered. He pressed the home button many times in quick succession, but the device was dead. He tossed it aside, wheezing out a helpless cry.

He glanced up briefly and let out a “holy fuck” as he fell back from Jonghyun’s lifeless form. 

A man in a blank, white mask stood halfway between the tree line and the porch steps, a knife in his grasp glinting red in moonlight. 

“Oh shit!” Kibum exclaimed, scrambling backwards while still on the ground, back into the cabin. 

Once inside he rose onto his knees, shutting and locking the door before he turned around and sat against the thick wood, bringing his knees up to his chest. 

Over and over again he whispered “oh my god” his face cold and numb with tears, his limbs feeling foreign to him.

_Jjong is dead._  

The realization hit him hard, the impact of the truth weighing his head down, pulling his face into his hands as fresh tears spilled from his eyes. His shoulders hunched and his body shook, the force of his sobs making him lightheaded.

Nothing made sense. 

Who was that man? Why did he kill Jjong? Was he going to kill everyone else? Was Kibum going to die? 

Every moment that passed a new question surfaced in his mind. None of them could be answered. None of them should’ve ever been in his head in the first place.  

Jjong should have been inside with the others. Why was he outside? Why didn’t he come in when he say the man? Did he see the man? Did he call for help? 

Kibum choked as he inhaled, coughing to clear his throat as his stomach knotted with guilt. What if Jjong had been calling for help but he hadn’t heard him because of the movie he was watching?  

A raw, painful cry escaped from his lips as he blubbered, “No, no, no, no, no,” praying to whatever gods that may be listening that he hadn’t actually ignored the fact that his friend was being murdered outside while he was on fucking Netflix.

Sniffling into his bloodstained hands, he realized he couldn’t sit there forever. 

The killer was still here, outside, and he’d seen Kibum.

“Jinki!” Kibum cried, using the doorknob to pull himself to his feet. “Jinki!”

He half walked, half ran towards Jinki’s room, his vision out of focus with unshed tears.

\---

Jinki heard Kibum calling to him just as he plugged in his phone to charge. Concerned, he went to the door, opening it to find Kibum, covered in both fresh and dried blood, his face slick with tears and snot. 

“What happened?” Jinki asked, his tone incredulous. “Oh my god, are you hurt? Are you okay?”

Kibum shook his head as he entered Jinki’s room. Jinki shut the door behind him, putting an arm around his friend’s shoulders as he directed him to the edge of his bed, helping him sit. Jinki sat next to him, not removing his arm.  

“He’s dead,” Kibum sobbed, “He’s dead and I left him there and I think he might’ve been calling me but I didn’t hear and now he’s dead and I don’t know what to do Jinki what do we do--.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Key, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay,” Jinki assured him, though his heart was racing, wondering what was going on. Someone died?

Kibum shook his head again, disagreeing. “No no no no it’s not okay Jjong is dead it’s not okay and he’s gonna kill us Jinki I don’t wanna die,” he blubbered, his shoulders heaving with every breath.

Jinki’s face fell. “Jonghyun is dead?”

Kibum coughed into his shirtsleeve, nodding. 

Jinki’s vision glazed over, his body growing numb as a chill worked its way down his spine. 

“What happened, Key?” He asked, his voice very soft. 

Kibum kept shaking his head, not looking at Jinki as he spoke. “I dunno I dunno I just went to go find signal and he was there on the porch and there was a guy in this mask a white mask and he was just there and he saw me and I think he’s gonna kill me oh my god what do I do Jinki I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die.” His words trailed off as tears took their place.

His friend’s panicked begging for help snapped him out of his daze. It was just… unreal to think that Jonghyun, a friend he’d known for so many years, was dead. It just didn’t make any sense, but he couldn’t focus on that. As much as he wanted to grieve, he couldn’t. It tore him in half, but he didn’t have any other choice. He had three other people in his cabin, which mean that there were three other people he could save. He wished, he ached in his core, that he’d saved Jonghyun too, but he’d have to worry about that later. With what Kibum was saying, Jonghyun’s killer was still outside doing who knows what. They were all still in danger, and Jinki was resolved to not lose a single other friend tonight.

Jinki used his free hand to brush Kibum’s hair off of his forehead where it had gotten matted down with sweat and blood. “You’re not going to die, okay? I’m not going to let you get hurt,” Jinki stated, “I’m going to get us out of here, and we’re going to call the police. We have to go get Taemin and Minho, and get to the car, okay?” He cupped Kibum’s cheek, making his broken friend look at him. “The car, that’s the plan.” 

“The car,” Kibum repeated nasally, his nose stuffy from crying. 

Jinki gave Kibum a sad smile. “You’re going to be okay,” he told him, trying to reassure both Kibum and himself, “We’re going to be okay.” 

Kibum hesitantly nodded, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. 

A scraping sound came from somewhere within the house.

Kibum and Jinki froze, their eyes wide. 

“What was that?” Kibum whispered. 

Jinki swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth. “The screen door, at the back of the cabin,” he breathed. “I left it unlocked. I was going to go outside in a few minutes.” 

Heavy footfalls began to march down the hall, the sound reverberating dully through the cabin.

Jinki looked at Kibum, whispering only one word. “Hide.” 

They were off the bed in a flash, Jinki switching off the lights as Kibum took to the closet. He shoved himself into a corner, partially obscured by hanging clothes. He pulled the door shut as quietly as he could, bathing himself in blackness. 

Jinki climbed into a wardrobe, perching himself on one of the shelves, behind old coats that had been in there since before he was born. Once he pulled the doors closed, he was in complete darkness, and was completely out of sight.

In their newfound, tense silence, Kibum and Jinki both listened for signs of the intruder. 

Kibum, tears still leaking from the corners of his eyes, pulled a scarf off of a hanger, wadding it up as he shoved it in his mouth, trying to stifle his erratic breaths. Jinki thought similarly, using an old sweater instead. 

For a few moments, they heard nothing but their heartbeats, the silence bearing down upon them. 

The footsteps resumed, the sound like gunshots in the otherwise mute cabin. 

They came closer, growing louder as they approached the room the two friends were concealed in. 

And then they stopped, just outside the door.

Kibum, fighting his tears, held his breath. Jinki did the same. 

The footsteps started up again, fading as the intruder walked away from the room.

The moments that followed were strenuous. Jinki and Kibum were both on edge, listening for any sign of movement.

Minutes passed, and they heard nothing, but Jinki wasn’t going to risk getting out. 

Kibum, however, wasn’t on the same page as Jinki.

With how quiet it’d become, Kibum was starting to worry that Jinki had somehow left the room without him knowing. Jinki was a very careful person and Kibum knew he could’ve gotten out without making a sound if he wanted to.

At the pace of a thawing glacier, Kibum cracked open the closet door. “Jinki?” He whispered, peering into the dark bedroom. His voice so quiet he wasn’t sure if he’d actually spoken out loud.

Within the wardrobe, Jinki couldn’t respond. He knew if he spoke up, someone other than Kibum would hear him, and if he moved, he’d knock into one of the boxes stacked on the shelf where he sat, only millimetres from his toes. He’d risk making too much noise, so he kept quiet, praying that Kibum would just go back in the closet and wait. 

Afraid of being left behind, Kibum crept out of the closet, moving ever so slowly to prevent unnecessary noise. 

“Jinki?” He tried again, his voice just as soft as before. 

Jinki heard him, but couldn’t do anything. A tear slid down his cheek, fearing for Kibum, and seething with anger at himself for putting them in the situation they were in now. 

The lack of response convinced Kibum that Jinki had left the room and he’d been so caught up in staying hidden that he hadn’t noticed. With that driving him, Kibum headed towards the bedroom door, his breaths shallow in an attempt at staying even quieter. Every few seconds, he’d hiccup from all the crying he’d done, so he kept his hands pressed over the lower half of his face to muffle the sound. 

He waited a few more moments before gradually turning the doorknob and opening the door. The entire time this was happening, Jinki silently pleaded for everything to just stop, to make Kibum stop, to bring Jonghyun back, to undo his decision to visit the cabin in the first place. Guilt and remorse spilled past his tightly shut eyes, streaking his face with moisture. 

Kibum snuck into the hallway, looking both ways before stepping outside. 

Looking down the hall, towards the staircase and the common room, he saw nothing. He turned around in the centre of the hall, and again, saw nothing out of the ordinary. 

He let out a breath he hadn’t intended to hold, his body shuddering in relief. 

Kibum’s respite was short lived as a gloved hand grabbed a fistful of his hair, forcibly yanking his head backwards as he screamed, the sound grating and raw. 

Before Kibum could even really register what was happening, the assailant slashed his knife deeply across Kibum’s exposed throat. 

Blood gushed from the wound, coating Kibum, the attacker, and the walls around them. His wailing turned into gurgles as he clawed at his throat, his lungs filling with his blood as he drifted out of consciousness. 

The attacker dropped Kibum’s body, sounding like a table being upturned as he collided with the floor, the impact splattering more blood in all directions.

\---

When Kibum’s cries abruptly came to a halt, Jinki knew it was too late for him to do anything. He just remained in place, biting into the sweater as he began to silently shed tears for a different reason. It had all happened so fast. He should’ve just answered Kibum when he’d called out.

It was all his fault. Jinki hated himself so much he contemplated running out of the wardrobe and letting the attacker end his life. He didn’t want to live knowing that the only reason his friends were dying was because he’d invited them on the trip, one he usually made alone, this time. If he’d been alone like always, only he would’ve died. That’s one life over four others. He didn’t mind taking their place if it meant they all could live. If there was any way he could change the way things had turned out, he would have, but he knew, unfortunately, that what was done was done, and he had to deal with the consequences, no matter how agonizing they may be.

Within the confines of the wardrobe, Jinki forced himself to remain in place, his body aching with self-loathing as he heard the killer ascending the stairs to the second floor.


	3. Farewell My Love

Chapter 3: Farewell My Love

Exhausted from their “team-building exercises,” as Minho liked to put it, Taemin and his boyfriend were nestled together under the covers. Minho’s chin rested lightly on top of Taemin’s head, their arms wrapped around each other. Taemin’s lips were level with the base of Minho’s neck, his breath hot against Minho’s already flush skin. Their legs were tangled together, their breathing almost in sync. 

Minho placed a soft kiss on Taemin’s forehead, his eyelids drooping with fatigue. Taemin smiled tiredly as he kissed Minho’s collarbone, the only place he could kiss since he couldn't really move his head. 

Minho brushed his fingertips along Taemin’s cheek, watching his boyfriend’s eyes flutter closed.

“Goodnight, babe,” Minho whispered, kissing Taemin’s forehead again. 

“Mnnh night,” Taemin murmured against Minho’s chest, the vibration of his voice sending chills up Minho’s spine. 

The pair lapsed into quietude as they drifted off to sleep. 

The sound of screaming pierced through their private paradise, fear spiking Minho’s blood, his eyes shooting open.

In an instant, he was sitting up, one arm protectively draped around Taemin, wide awake from the unexpected sound. 

“What--” Taemin began, rising to a sitting position.

“I don't know,” Minho murmured, getting out of bed. He pulled on his shirt and jeans, tossing Taemin his clothes while he was up. “It sounded like Kibum.”

The screaming ended as quickly as it had began. A loud bang followed shortly afterwards. 

Something was wrong. Minho could feel it. 

Minho approached the door, wondering if he should go check out the source of the screaming, but he also didn't want to risk getting caught in a situation too dangerous for him to control. What if he couldn't protect Taemin? 

“Minho,” Taemin called, getting out of bed, “Wait, I don't think it's safe.” 

“Me neither,” Minho agreed, backing away from the door. He glanced towards the bed and did a double take as he remembered something.  

He ran over to the bed, reaching underneath it for the baseball bat he’d brought along. Jinki had told him to bring along any sports equipment he had, so in addition to the bat, beneath the bed was a soccer ball, four badminton rackets, and a football. 

Minho, bat in hand, went to Taemin’s side. 

The couple stilled as they became aware of the sound of someone in heavy boots climbing the stairs. 

Minho, without hesitating, turned to Taemin, not knowing how much time they would have, what was going on, or if everything would be okay. Minho placed his free hand on his boyfriend’s cheek, tugging his hair behind his ear as he leaned in, kissing Taemin.

Minho pulled away hesitantly, not wanting the moment to end, but knowing it had to. Resting his forehead against Taemin’s, his closed his eyes, trying to engrave the softness of Taemin’s skin, the scent of his hair, into his memory. He felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.

Lifting his head, he looked at Taemin. Taemin’s eyes were full of hope, of a faith in Minho he wasn’t sure he deserved, but beyond that was a shred of fear, something that Minho was trying to pretend he couldn’t feel himself. He couldn’t be afraid, not now when Taemin was depending on him. 

“I love you,” Minho told Taemin, taking his hand in his own.  

Taemin’s eyes lit up as he smiled softly. “I love you, too.”  

Minho returned the smile, fighting off the unease pooling in his gut. He gave Taemin’s hand a quick squeeze before letting go, and going to the door.  

He looked over his shoulder at Taemin as he gripped the doorknob, putting a finger to his lips, directing Taemin to be as quiet as possible. 

Taking a deep breath in, Minho twisted the knob, throwing open the door. 

Standing on the other side of the door was a slender man in a white, featureless mask, a knife dripping sticky, red droplets onto the floor in his grasp. 

Minho didn’t think, he just moved.  

Gripping the bat with both hands, Minho swung at the intruder. It cracked across the masked man’s head, throwing him down the hallway. 

His body alight with nerves and adrenaline, Minho bounced on the balls of his feet, motioning for Taemin to follow him. “Taemin, now!” 

Locking eyes with Minho, Taemin’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open as he shouted, “Minho, behind you!”

Minho spun around to see the attacker running at him, knife drawn. 

Minho managed to step out of the assailant’s path, bringing the bat down across the man’s back. The attacker fell, his body crumpling onto the floor.

Taemin, seeing an opportunity to escape, ran to Minho, leaping over the attacker’s fallen form as he sped down the stairs behind Minho. 

They were nearly at the bottom of the stairs when they heard hurried, thundering footfalls coming down after them. 

Minho jumped the last few steps, pulling Taemin down with him to preserve time. 

“Taemin, run! Just ride, I’ll deal with this,” he urged, shoving Taemin towards the hallway where Jinki, Jonghyun, and Kibum’s rooms were. “Just go! I’ve got this!” 

Taemin, his eyes burning with tears he didn’t want to shed, nodded, obeying Minho. He sprinted away from his boyfriend, turning down the hall. 

Taemin gasped, slapping his hands over his mouth to smother the screams he could feel in his throat. 

Kibum was laying in the centre of the hallway in a pool of blood so dark it was almost black. The walls were coated in a thick spattering of blood, with a trail of scarlet bootprints leading down the hallway where Taemin had just entered from. 

Repressed tears leaking from his eyes, Taemin pressed himself against a wall, trying to ignore the way his shirt felt wet when his back made contact with the bloodied surface. 

He had no idea what had happened. 

Not too long ago, Kibum had been fine. He’d been alive, and yet there he was, laying a few feet away from Taemin, dead.  

Where was Jinki in all of this? What about Jonghyun? How hadn’t he or Minho noticed that this was happening? 

Could it have been prevented? 

Taemin’s head grew lighter with every passing second. The overwhelming, coppery scent of drying blood filled his nose as he inhaled, causing him to gag.

He swallowed a sob, clenching his fingers around the lower half of his face, listening to the sounds of his boyfriend’s fight with the attacker.

\--- 

Minho swung at the attacker with his bat, but the man dodged the weapon. Now slightly closer to Minho than before, the man threw a punch, connecting with Minho’s ribs. 

Minho cried out, reflexively bringing the bat down on the man’s lower back. The impact knocked the attacker onto the floor, grunting as he hit the ground.  

Seeing his legs were closest to the attacker, Minho began to kick the man over and over again, using all of the strength he’d earned through his years of playing soccer.  

The man croaked with every kick that jabbed into his stomach, his chest, and his hips.  

Minho lifted his leg, preparing to stomp down on the attacker, when the man suddenly reached up, grabbed Minho by the foot, and pulled.  

Minho yelped as he lost his footing, groaning as he slammed onto the floor. 

\---

The sounds of the fight were blending together to the point that Taemin couldn’t tell who was making what noises anymore. To him, it sounded like neither of the two men in the common area would be okay, and the thought of that, of Minho not coming around the corner to get him, made his legs want to give out. 

There was a loud bang as somebody fell over, crying out in pain. 

“Wait, wait!” Taemin heard Minho shout.  

Taemin’s heart stopped. His breath came to a halt in his lungs. Everything froze.  

“Wait, stop, st--!” Minho roared, only to have his last word cut off by a sickening thud.  

Taemin’s eyes were as wide as they could be, but he wasn’t seeing anything. Everything around him was one big blur of red and brown. His body trembled, his hands still plastered to his mouth as tears spilled like rainwater down his cheeks, the moisture slipping between his fingers.  

A few moments passed where he heard nothing, aside from his irregular breathing and deafening heartbeat.  

He let his hands fall from his face, peeling away from the wall. 

In a trace, Taemin felt himself moving down the hall, towards the common area. 

As he rounded the corner, a strange sort of calm came over him.  

Taemin approached the common area, his eyes never leaving the mound of blood and limbs that he recognized as his boyfriend.

Nothing felt real. Nothing was real. It wasn’t happening. There was no way what he was seeing was happening for real. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.  

Fresh tears poured from his eyes, but he made no sound. His lower lip quivered, but otherwise he was steady.  

He knelt down beside Minho, who was laying on his side, his eyes shut, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth and a gash on his forehead accumulating beneath him in a shallow puddle. 

Taemin shuddered as he took a breath in, tenderly stroking Minho’s hair.  

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed, his shellshocked exterior cracking as he broke into a violent sob. 

Taemin folded himself over his boyfriend, the anguish he felt dragging him heart first into the floor. 

“I'm so sorry, Minho,” he repeated, his words thick tears. “I love you so much,” he weeped. 

He felt so heavy, yet so weak. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t sure he remembered how to.  

Initially, Minho hadn't even wanted to come to the cabin with Jinki and the others. Taemin did, however, and had pestered him about going until he finally gave in. 

Minho had wanted to drive a city over, book a hotel, and spend the weekend wandering hand in hand, wasting the time away with each other’s company. Taemin had missed being with the others, though, and thought he could get the best of both worlds by joining Jinki on his trip. If he had known how wrong he was, he would’ve never let it happen.

Taemin lifted himself up, back in his kneeling position beside Minho. He sucked in a shaky breath, running his hands through his hair over and over again, pulling it away from his forehead. 

Taemin glanced up, a startled cry slipping past his lips. 

The man in the blank mask stood a few feet in front of him, motionless like a statue. 

Guilt weighed him down, but he didn't hesitate to get to his feet, turning and running down the hallway to the kitchen. Taemin felt horrible for leaving Minho there, on the floor, but he knew Minho wouldn't have forgave him if he’d wasted his last efforts at keeping him alive.

Minho’s last words to him echoed in his mind:  _ “Just go! I've got this!”  _

Slipping on a blood-slicked patch of flooring, Taemin struggled to regain his balance as he fled from the killer. 

Taemin crashed into the screen door, hoping it would break, allowing him to run outside. The door held, merely bending, but not breaking under Taemin’s weight. 

He pushed and pulled against the door, but it wouldn't budge. He let out an exasperated groan, backing away from the door.  

He turned around, and the masked attacker was there, knife in hand.  

Whimpering, Taemin slowly backed into the kitchen, his back to the countertops, his forearms raised in the only feeble form of protection he had access to.  

This was it. This was how he died. Taemin had never really pictured the moment it would all end, but even in all his worst case scenarios, being cornered by a killer wasn't even an idea.  

He wondered how things could've turned out differently if he hadn't convinced Minho to come on the trip with him. He wondered if Minho would still be alive, if Kibum would still be alive, if he hadn't come along. Was it his fault? Was the killer after him? 

“Who are you?” Taemin demanded, his grief turning into an exhausted, subdued sort of rage.  

The masked man tilted his head, remaining silent.  

“You don't have to do this,” Taemin continued, his hands shaking as he dropped them to his sides. “You could just leave.”  

The killer didn't move, or make my indication that Taemin’s words meant anything to him. 

“Please,” Taemin begged, his voice cracking, “Just leave me alone. I've got nothing left for you to take from me. Just go, please.” He began to tremble as his tears resumed.  

The killer took a small step forward. 

“Did you want to hurt me?” Taemin tried, “Is that it?” Taemin took a step backwards. “Because you did.” He paused to cough, that cough turning into a dull chuckle.  

“You've hurt me so much.” He looked up at the killer, where the man’s eyes should be. “I don't know what I did for you to want to do this to me, but it's over now. I'm sorry. You win. Just please, go,” he pleaded, “There’s nothing left for you to do. Just go!”

The killer just stood there, unmoving.  

Taemin sighed, resigning himself to whatever fate would befall him. The only thing giving him comfort was the thought that even if he didn't make it out of the cabin, he’d still get to be with Minho in the end. 

Roaring like a wild beast, Minho suddenly came barreling straight down the hall, plowing into the killer at full speed. 

Minho, upon disabling the killer, straddled him, throwing punch after punch at the killer’s head and chest.  

Taemin, unable to move, stood between the kitchen island & the counter, each breath growing more shallow than the last.  

He couldn’t believe it. Minho was alive. There was still hope.

The killer, in a sudden burst of energy, rolled him and Minho over so that the killer was now on top. 

Taemin's optimism shattered as he screamed a piercing “No!” He sank to his knees, clutching at the neckline of his shirt as he began to wail senselessly. 

After returning Minho with a significant number of punches, the killer reached behind him, under his leather jacket. He pulled out a different knife, the blade wider than the last, raising it above his head. 

Taemin screamed and screamed, begging and pleading for the killer to just stop, but nothing came of it. 

The killer brought the knife down into Minho’s chest, only to remove it and do it again, and again, and again. 

Taemin’s screaming died down, his body feeling empty of himself. The sickening squelching of the killer’s knife against his boyfriend’s body filled the space where his screams used to be. 

It wasn't long before the killer decided to direct his ruthless onslaught to Minho’s face. 

There was nothing left for Taemin to fight for. 

What remained of his resolved was seeping out of his boyfriend’s decimated body onto the kitchen floor.

Nothing was real anymore.

Taemin didn't notice when the killer got off of Minho, wiping the blood from his gloves onto his black jeans. 

Taemin didn’t notice when the killer paced behind him, casting a grey shadow over his hunched form.  

He did feel it, though, when the knife punctured his chest from behind, the blade emerging on the other side. He saw it, the red and silver piece of metal, sticking out of his chest. 

Blood poured from his mouth as he gagged, tears no longer falling from his eyes. 

His eyes rolled back in his head as the killer pulled the knife out, blood spurting from the wound, painting Taemin in a river of crimson heat. 

Taemin fell forward into a pool of his own blood, the sound wet and hollow. 

As he faded from his body, his last thought was of peace. 

It was true, he was dying, but he knew he’d be with Minho soon, and that thought kept him warm as his body grew colder and colder.


	4. Stranger

Chapter 4: Stranger

The second Jinki heard the killer climbing the stairs to the upper level, he sprung from the wardrobe. He should’ve gotten out when Kibum had called for him, but it was too late to do anything about that now. He needed to get out of the cabin, and get to the car. If he brought it closer to the cabin, Minho and Taemin would have an easy getaway. He just hoped they would be able to hold out until he was back. 

As he stepped into the hallway, he came to halt. He couldn’t move, unable to fully process what he was seeing. 

“Kibum…” he whispered.

He approached Kibum’s body tentatively, as if he were a wounded animal. There was a ringing in his ears coming from somewhere inside his skull. It was all he could hear. It was all that he was really aware of. 

He knelt next to Kibum’s body, wanting to reach out and shake him awake. He didn’t though, because he knew if he did touch him, he’d try to carry Kibum with him, and he couldn’t do that, no matter how much he wanted to, if he was going to make it out. 

He gulped as a few of his tears dropped into the basin of Kibum’s blood. “I’m so sorry, Key,” he told his friend, taking comfort in the idea of Kibum still being able to hear him, just not in the same way. “I’ll come back for you.”

He inhaled, wiping his face with the backs of his hands as he got to his feet. 

His heart aching to do more, he stepped around Kibum and jogged into the kitchen.

Jinki began throwing open cabinets and drawers, trying to remember where he kept the kitchen knives. He needed some sort of weapon to protect himself against the killer. He knew he had a chef’s knife in there somewhere.  

Opening a drawer, Jinki found his car keys. He felt a small wave of relief wash over him as he pocketed them, opening the drawer below that. The chef’s knife was there, glinting in the blurry, yellow lights of the kitchen.  

Grabbing what he needed, Jinki didn’t waste anymore time.  

He ran through the cabin and out the front door, the sound of Minho hollering elsewhere in the house following behind him. Guilt gnawed at his resolve, but he pushed it aside, shutting the front door on his two friends. He held the doorknob in his grasp for a moment, whispering “I’m so sorry” to the couple inside. He knew Minho was strong. He knew Minho was capable. He just wished he was as certain Minho would be able to secure his and Taemin’s safety.  

Jinki let go of the knob, turning around on the porch to see the stains of a large amount of blood against the wooden planks. He wondered who’s blood it was, until he saw a video camera lying on its side, just next to the stains. 

Kibum’s panicked words came back to him.  _ “No no no no it’s not okay Jjong is dead it’s not okay and he’s gonna kill us Jinki I don’t wanna die.” _

Jonghyun. It was his blood, but where was he? What sick act had the killer performed on his dead body? 

Jinki felt a disgusted outrage bubbling up within him. The killer already took Jonghyun’s life. Couldn’t he at least let Jonghyun’s body be at peace?

The sound of shouting came from the other side of the door. Minho and Taemin would be out any minute. 

Thinking for a moment, Jinki realized it didn’t make sense to go get his car and come back. What if Minho and Taemin got out before he was back? What if the killer ended up chasing them into the forest? What if they didn’t survive because he wasn’t there?

He hadn’t really been there for anyone tonight. 

Changing his mind, Jinki decided to hide out in the treeline until Minho and Taemin came out. He knew he wasn’t a fighter and would only get in the way of Minho. He knew that if the killer cornered him, he wouldn’t be able to do much. He wouldn’t make it, and he didn’t want to abandon his friends by throwing his life away in a last-ditch effort at playing the hero. It wouldn’t work, and so he decided to wait, praying to gods he didn’t entirely believe in at that moment that somehow, everything would be okay. 

Fuming with anger directed at the killer, at himself, at the universe’s shitty plans for him and his friends, Jinki retrieved the video camera, trudging into the forest. 

\--- 

Jinki didn’t go too far into the trees. He went in just deep enough to conceal himself while also having a clear line of sight to the front door. The second Minho and Taemin emerged, he’d call out to them, throwing caution and stealth into the wind. And then, they’d run. They’d run and they wouldn’t stop until they got into the car. Jinki would drive them to safety, call the police, and give his friends a proper funeral. 

He hadn’t done much for them while they were living, and he hated that it was only in their death that he would have to make it up to them.

What anger he had left in him filtered out of his eyes in warm, wet droplets, letting a deep sense of despair fill its place.

There was so much he had planned, for himself, for his friends. The summer had just begun, and he’d been saving up in secret to book tickets for a cruise for the five of them. After that, he wanted to visit Italy with Minho and Taemin who’d follow Minho to the ends of the earth. Then, Los Angeles with Jonghyun. He knew Kibum had wanted to go to Paris for years now, and had been planning a birthday surprise for him as well. 

And now none of it would happen. None of it mattered. Nothing was the same anymore.

He’d wasted his chance at treating them to what they all deserved, and now sat, alone, unsure of what the point of everything was. 

What had he been working towards if all it had amounted to was destruction? 

How badly had be pissed off the universe to be paid back in such an unfathomable manner?

Crouching in the damp soil, Jinki’s head fell forward, his forehead resting against the video camera in his hands as he struggled to even out his breathing. 

The camera. 

He raised his head as he sat back on the dirt floor of the forest. He’d picked it up knowing how precious it was to Jonghyun, but now that he had it, he wondered if it had caught anything involving the killer on film. 

He flipped open the camera’s display screen. It was cracked and splattered with tiny drops of reddish brown blood. Jinki grimaced, rubbing his thumb against it to clean off some of the grime, powering on the camera.

The device turned on, and Jinki began to skim through the videos Jonghyun had taken.

The first one started when Jonghyun got out of the car, a wondrous “Woah!” coming from the camera’s speakers. 

He saw Jonghyun pestering Minho and Taemin, with Taemin giggling as Jonghyun pretended to be a modeling coach, giving directions to Taemin who was too busy laughing to properly pose for him. 

He saw how Jonghyun had annoyed Kibum before going through the entire cabin, detailing the furniture he liked best, the layout, and the fireplace, which he said “feels cold and forgotten to look at for some reason. I dunno, it just makes me feel like I’m looking at a memory I’m not supposed to have, that doesn’t mean anything anymore. I dunno...”

Jonghyun had went by the lake, going out onto the dock overlooking the water. He took a close up shot of the horizon, his soft gasp coming from the speakers. “Now that’s gorgeous,” Jinki heard him say as the shot panned over the lakeside scenery. The sun glinted off of the water, and Jinki could hear himself and Kibum laughing faintly through the interference the summer breeze caused.

Jinki felt a sad smile tugging at his lips as he watched.

The next set of footage was mostly dark, but there was a small spot of a peachy sort of tone in the centre that grew larger as Jonghyun zoomed in on something.  

Jinki realized that he was looking at Kibum as he was getting changed. 

“Oh god, okay no,” he yelped, skipping the video.  

He skipped passed a video of dinner, and another Jonghyun had taken when they were in the common area.  

The next video began with Jonghyun slowly making his way up stairs. Jonghyun crept around the bannister and crouched next to a closed door, zooming in on a hole in the wood as his breathing grew heavy. 

“Goddamn it, Jjong,” Jinki grumbled, realizing exactly what Jonghyun had been recording. 

He fast forwarded through the footage, grimacing as he caught glimpses of a few frames of Minho and Taemin he could’ve gone his whole life without seeing. 

He skimmed past Minho chasing Jonghyun back downstairs, but resumed the video once Jonghyun was outside. Whatever was going to happen, it would happen now. 

Jinki watched, his heart beginning to pick up its pace, as Jonghyun in the video spun around, calling “Who’s there?” into the forest. 

Jonghyun walked back to the porch the camera pointed at a haphazard angle at the side of Jonghyun’s leg. The camera remained focused on Jonghyun as he shifted his posture, turning to look behind him. Jinki heard Jonghyun inhale sharply, the camera falling to the porch. It lay on its side, documenting Jonghyun’s feet as he pounded on the front door that Minho had foolishly locked. Jonghyun screamed for help, shoving his weight against the door, but Jinki already knew it wouldn’t amount to anything. 

And somehow, Jinki hadn’t heard him when it had been happening. Nobody had heard him.  

Jinki grimaced, the pain of knowing he could’ve prevented Jonghyun’s death pressed down on his shoulders. It made him want to give up, to shout, to throw the camera through the trees. 

His hands clenched around the camera, his guilt overflowing from his eyes, dreading where he knew the footage was headed.  

He watched as a pair of black combat boots marched into frame, behind Jonghyun. His cries grew muffled as the assailant jerked Jonghyun to the floor of the porch.  

The assailant threw him down face first, eliciting a groan from Jonghyun.  

“Not so hard, man!” Jonghyun scolded. 

Jinki furrowed his brow in confusion. Did he hear that right? 

“Sorry,” came the attacker’s reply, muffled from the masks.  

“Whatever,” Jonghyun told him. “Just start pouring the blood and go wait over there-” he gestured towards the forest, “-until Minho comes back down.” 

Minho? Jonghyun was helping the killer get Minho? Why? What was going on? 

Nothing made sense to Jinki.  

The attacker hopped down the porch steps, returning with a plastic jug filled with a dark maroon fluid. He began to pour it around Jonghyun, creating a pool of blood around him.

Jonghyun coughed. “Is this the fake blood I asked for?” he inquired.  

The attacker shook his head, kneeling down beside Jonghyun. “You wanted pig’s blood, right? You messaged me about it?” he clarified, dipping his gloved fingers into the blood. “To make it more realistic, remember? Wait, lift your head for a second.” 

Jonghyun did and the killer ran his bloodied fingers across Jonghyun’s throat, making it appear as if that was the source of the bleeding once he’d resumed his position on the porch.  

Jinki’s head felt faint. He wasn’t entirely processing what he was seeing. He didn’t want to continue, but he couldn’t look away. He had to know what this led to.  

“So I call him once I’m over there, right?” The attacker asked, standing up and out of frame.  

“Yeah,” Jonghyun replied, “Just say random syllables and he’ll probably come outside to find service.”

“Alright,” the attacker finalized as he stepped off the porch, his boots crunching against the gravel.  

There were muffled sounds of the killer speaking shortly after, the camera still recording Jonghyun’s “dead” body.  

“Oh fuck,” the killer exclaimed.  

“What?” Jonghyun demanded, lifting his head for a second before placing it back in the blood.  

“I called Kibum instead of Minho.”  

“Shit,” Jonghyun cursed. “Shit, shit, shit! How could you fuck this up? Right now of all times! Kibum isn’t supposed to die…” His voice trailed off, thick with suppressed rage. “Don’t let him see you or I’ll have to kill him too.” He huffed, his breath stirring the blood. “You absolute fucking idiot…” he muttered.  

Jinki wasn’t sure if what he was watching was true or an elaborate, sadistic practical joke. 

A few moments of silence passed before Jinki heard the front door open in the video. Somebody started to scream as something fell to the porch.  

Kibum crawled into frame, crying and screaming incoherently, occasionally repeating “no” over and over again. He approached Jonghyun’s body, shaking him momentarily before picking up something out of frame. He made a frustrated cry, throwing whatever it was aside before suddenly gasping. Kibum yelped “holy fuck” before scrambling back out of frame, the sound of the door slamming following right after.  

Nothing happened for a few minutes, until Jonghyun quietly said, “well, alright then,” as he assumed a push up position, getting to his feet.  

The camera continued to roll as the killer’s boots came into frame in front of Jonghyun’s feet.  

“He saw me,” the killer told him. 

Jinki pursed his lips. Something about that voice, the killer’s voice, was so familiar. 

“I know,” Jonghyun said, unimpressed, “Well, whatever. I’m just killing an extra person now.” He paused for a second. “What are you waiting for, Haesol? Swap clothes with me!” 

Jinki’s lips unstuck from one another, his jaw dropping open. 

“There’s no way…” Jinki murmured in disbelief.

“Oh, right!” the killer, now revealed to be their friend Kim Haesol, replied.

Jinki looked away from the screen as the two men exchanged outfits, glancing back once it was over.  

Once Jonghyun had on the black jeans and boots, Jinki couldn’t tell him and Haesol apart. Their legs looked the same, meaning the rest of their bodies looked the same. 

A horrible realization struck Jinki.  

He shut the camera off, slapping the display screen closed as the camera dropped from his grasp. 

“No…” Jinki breathed, “No, that’s not possible.” 

He put his knees up, resting his elbows on them as he ran his hands through his hair, his fingers tangling in his sweaty locks.  

Jonghyun’s recorded words replayed in his mind in a grim, unreal loop.  

_“...Until Minho comes back down…” “I’m just killing an extra person now.”_  

“Minho,” Jinki repeated, a wave of shock lifting his head from his hands.  

Minho and Taemin were alone inside with Jonghyun right now.  

Jinki was up in an instant, sprinting across the gravel, just as the front door opened.  

The man in the white, featureless mask stepped out, wiping his knife on his thigh as he descended the stairs. 

“Jonghyun,” Jinki called, panting. 

The masked man froze, about ten feet away from Jinki. 

Neither of them moved until eventually, the killer pulled off his mask, revealing the expressionless face of Kim Jonghyun. 

Jinki recoiled, his balance wavering as everything he knew came crashing down around him. 

He’d been hoping that what he’d seen on Jonghyun’s camera was wrong, was faked somehow, but that wasn’t the case. His friend of many, many years stood before him soaked in the blood of the people he valued most.  

The man before Jinki wasn’t Jonghyun. He wasn’t the man who would drunkenly called Jinki at 3 AM to listen to poems he’d written, or to keep him company because he was feeling particularly lonely. That wasn’t the man who posted more photos of his dog on Instagram than he did of himself. He wasn’t the man who’d cried during a Skype call in their teenage years because he was so thankful to have the friends that he did.  

That man stopped being real who knew how long ago. The man before Jinki was a skinwalker, a stranger wearing his best friend’s face. Jinki did not know that man. He never did. 

“How’d you figure it out?” Jonghyun asked, dropping the mask on the gravel before putting his hands on his hips. 

“Your camera,” Jinki heard himself say. 

Jinki was no longer in his body. He was watching it all from the outside, no longer a part of himself, of reality. 

“Ah,” Jonghyun replied, nodding.

“What the fuck, Jjong?” Jinki asked, his voice as empty as his body felt. 

“It was…” Jonghyun sighed, looking at the gravel. “I just had to do this.” 

“Why?” 

Jonghyun looked up briefly before returning his attention to the ground. “Because I was tired… of pretending to be okay.” 

Jinki blinked, not really understanding what Jonghyun was telling him. He heard the words, and knew what he should say, though the words themselves held no meaning to him. 

“What do you mean?” Jinki continued, “What happened?” 

Jonghyun exhaled, chewing on his lower lip, kicking a stone of gravel with the tip of his boot as he rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t say anything for a while.  

“I was in love with Taemin, you know,” Jonghyun finally replied. 

“What?” The word was out of Jinki’s mouth before he even registered that he’d spoken. 

“Yeah…” Jonghyun said, stretching his arms above his head as a yawn took over his features. “I was into him for a while, couple years actually.” 

“But Minho…” Jinki trailed off, the conversation in the footage he’d seen starting to make sense to him. 

“He knew,” Jonghyun told Jinki, shrugging.  

Jinki didn’t say anything. He just stared at Jonghyun, his eyes focused on a point somewhere between Jonghyun’s nose and neck.

“How do you think it felt to find out that one of my best friends was fucking the only man I’d ever loved?” Jonghyun went on, taking a few steps towards Jinki. “That he knew I loved?” 

Jinki suddenly became aware of the knife still gripped in Jonghyun’s right hand.

“Jonghyun…” Jinki said, his gaze flicking up to Jonghyun’s eyes. 

“I wanted Minho to know that if I couldn't have him, nobody could.” Jonghyun stepped closer yet. “He betrayed me, you know.”

Jinki didn’t say anything. He’d run out of words to give the man in front of him.

“You know what, though?” Jonghyun posed, “I’m starting to think I should’ve maybe talked to you or Minho or Key about this, about how angry I was, about everything.” He took a step forward. “But it’s too late for that now, I guess. Oh well,” he shrugged again, smiling playfully.

“Where is Taemin right now?” Jinki asked, his voice sounding like it was coming from the sky rather than his mouth. 

Jonghyun stopped, looking away for a moment. “Like I said… If I couldn’t have him, no one could. And I mean like,” Jonghyun began to run his gloved fingers through his hair, closing the gap between himself and Jinki, “I wanted Taemin to like me, yeah, but not because I was the only option, you know? I wanted him to want me because he.. Just wanted me.”

Jinki was inches apart from the imposter that looked like someone who was family to him.

Jonghyun sighed, gently reaching to stroke Jinki’s cheek with his free hand. Jinki wasn’t present enough to even flinch.

“You haven't done anything wrong, Jinki,” Jonghyun said, his tone trying to sound soothing but coming off as condescending, “You’re actually the only person I could really rely on… But, you understand that I can't leave any witnesses.” Jinki felt something pressing against his abdomen. He didn’t have to look to know it was the knife. “I'm sorry, but this is what I have to do. Please forgive me.”

Jinki looked Jonghyun in the eyes, his muted expression unwavering. “I’m sorry, too.”

Without missing a beat, Jinki brought the chef’s knife he’d taken from the kitchen upwards, through the layers of Jonghyun’s clothes, between his ribs.

Jonghyun’s knife clattered as it hit the gravel, his eyes incredulously searching Jinki’s face for a an answer.

“I hope you can forgive me Jjong, but I can't allow you to do what you did and not receive any consequences.” Jinki drove the knife in deeper, “-People died-” and deeper, “-our friends died-” and deeper, until it was buried up to the hilt in his chest. “You shouldn't have let it come to this. I'm so disappointed in you.”

Jinki ripped the knife from Jonghyun’s chest, blood gushing like a waterfall down his chest. 

“I don’t even know who you are anymore,” Jinki breathed.

Jonghyun bent over, gasping as he felt himself spilling from his body and onto the gravel below. He clutched at the wound futilely, attempting to plug the hole without any success. Blood surged through his gloved hands. He coughed, a spray of blood flying onto Jinki’s chest. 

Jonghyun’s legs gave out and he collapsed to the ground, choking as blood gurgled up his throat from the wound. 

Jonghyun wheezed as he tried to take a breath, but there was no room for him to do so. His lungs were too full of blood, drowning him from the inside.

It felt like forever to the both of them, but Jinki stood there, watching as Jonghyun’s body stilled and the sounds of his death ceased.

Jinki let the knife, the handle slippery and wet with Jonghyun’s blood, slip from his hand. It hit the gravel just as he fell to his knees.

It was over. 

Looking at Jonghyun’s lifeless body, Jinki came to understand that there was nothing left for him to do in that moment.

He felt moisture on his face, startling him. He wiped it away, looking up at the cloudless sky, wondering how it could be raining.

As a sob escaped his lips, he realized that there was no rain. It was just him, finally feeling everything that had happened. 

Looking up at the sky, sorrow spilling from his eyes, Jinki wondered how the sky could look so impossibly blue so late at night.


	5. Epilogue: An Encore

Epilogue: An Encore

 

-One Year Later-

 

The rain was a mist, a constant cloud of moisture that consumed the air, leaving nothing untouched. It darkened the sky and dampened the earth, clinging to hair and jackets and the leaves that the wind shook loose from the maple trees. 

The graveyard was empty and matted down by silence, the only sound coming from raindrops as they fell into puddles.

It was the early hours of the morning and the sun should’ve been starting to emerge from beyond the horizon. The thick clouds masked its light, making the dawn as grey as the soaked pavement of the pathway through the graveyard.

Jinki trudged down the path, his black shoes splashing through a puddle of rainwater, shielded from the rain by a clear umbrella. Four small bundles of red and white poppies were gently clutched to his chest.

He wasn’t even thinking about where he was headed. He just knew by now. His limbs carried him there for him, guided by memories of walking the same way almost every day. 

He stopped in front of the four headstone, the soles of his shoes grinding against the gritty path.

“Hi guys,” he voiced, the sound of his words startlingly loud against the sanctity of the graveyard. “I brought you something. They’re supposed to bring you peace." 

Jinki went down the line of headstones, placing a bundle of poppies in front of each one. 

In front of Taemin’s, he wished him happiness, and that Minho was treating him well before whispering an apology aloud.

In front of Kibum’s, he hoped Key had gotten to visit Paris like he’d dreamed of, the words “I’m so sorry,” following his thoughts verbally. 

In front of Minho’s, he told him to never limit himself, and to continue to have adventures with Taemin by his side. He apologized quietly before moving on. 

In front of Jonghyun’s headstone, he paused. There was a bouquet of daffodils already there, most likely from a family member. He placed his poppies next to it, crouching down, putting his umbrella both over himself and the headstone. 

“Jonghyun…” Jinki started, “I… just hope you’re at peace. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you when you needed it. I…” He stopped, his words getting caught in his throat, “I’m sorry.”

As he was about to stand, Jinki noticed a small, white envelope beneath the daffodils. He picked it up as he rose, his eyes widening in shock. 

On the envelope, printed in  delicate, calligraphic handwriting was his name.

Hands shaking, Jinki carefully opened up the envelope, pulling out a simple, white card. Printed on it were two words:

“Miss me?”

TO BE CONTINUED


End file.
